


You're Home, Sweetling

by questionably_fortunate_bamboo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 18:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11087169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionably_fortunate_bamboo/pseuds/questionably_fortunate_bamboo
Summary: Sansa falls asleep on Jon after a few cups of wine. When she wakes up, everything changes.(also, jon's arm is starting to get a bit numb)





	You're Home, Sweetling

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooooo guys! Here's my second oneshot prompt. I have a few others to work on, but I'm on summer break now so ayyyy we're good! I do need to do some summer assignments though, so there may be a few days where I disappear to work on those.  
> This was for a lovely prompt from riahchan, who is so wonderful. If you guys would like to send prompts, feel free! Find me on Tumblr @wintermellons, or just leave a comment.  
> Thank you all!

Being around Sansa usually makes Jon feel sparks, but not quite like this.

“Sansa,” he says, trying to shake her gently. She doesn’t budge. His arm is slowly going numb under her shoulders. It’s not the first time she’s fallen asleep on him, but it would certainly be convenient for him if she wasn’t cutting off the blood flow to his fingers.

(And he wasn’t about to turn her away when she came to his room half-drunk, giggling at every little thing. The last time she had too much wine, she ended up crying alone in the kitchens until the small hours in the morning when Podrick found her. Jon had let her curl up in his bed, chattering amiably until she fell fast asleep.)

“C’mon, Sansa,” he mutters. His forearm is tingling, as if it’s being pricked by the needles she uses to sew. With delicate precision, he tries to pull his arm away. Sansa sniffs, and for a moment he thinks he’s woken her, but she just reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks. Had she done it on purpose? Or was it some dreamy movement? Either way, Jon’s heart races against his chest. When Bran told them about his parentage, they had all sworn that no matter what, they were siblings.

He had lied through his teeth. Of course Bran was still his brother and Arya was still his sister. But Sansa was something else entirely. She was happiness, safety, comfort, joy. She wasn’t made of stone and snow, but she felt more like home than any place he had been to. Many nights he had spent staring at the ceiling, wondering if that made him dishonorable and crude. As Sansa lay at his side, he couldn’t imagine how loving someone as perfect as her could possibly be a sin.

“ _Jon_.”

It’s only one word, but he swears he’s died all over again. _Jon_. A name that never brought him any comfort unless it was from her tongue.

“Sansa?”

“Is it morning?” she asks, curling into him even further. The pricks and sparks in his arm can’t compare to the lightning in his heart when he sees her hold their intertwined hands to her chest.

“Not yet. Go back to sleep.”

“You’re lying, I can see it’s day,” she says. Her eyes are still closed. She traces tiny circles on the side of his hand with her thumb.

“Maybe you’re just dreaming,” says Jon. Maybe he’s dreaming too. Who can tell? She’s certainly too good to be true.

“I know I’m not dreaming because I know what I dreamt of. Do you want to know?”

 _Does he_? Without realizing it, he whispers _yes_ because if he doesn’t, he’ll always regret it.

“In my dreams I’m standing in the Godswood,” she begins, “and it’s snowing so hard I can’t see. The trees are bending in the wind. It’s cold and lonely. But then, there’s a small light, like a lantern, and someone says ‘ _You’re home, sweetling’_.”

He wants to weep and tell her it’s all true. She’s home. She’s _his_ home. They’re Jon and Sansa, Sansa and Jon. He’s been in the crypts - seen the statues that hardly resemble the family they loved - and begged them to show him a reason why he’s still alive. The answer is Sansa. It’s always been Sansa. She’s the reason why they’re in Winterfell and not some fiery hell. She is salvation. She is so much more than the frigid lady the Northerners see.

“I love you,” he whispers, “and I’m yours.”

For a horrifying moment, he thinks he’s crossed a line. She doesn’t love him. She’s about to tell him to get away from her, apologize at once, take back what he said.

Instead, she rolls over to face him, which shifts her weight off of his arm. _Thank the gods._ The tingling numbness begins to fade.

“Do you mean it?” she asks. He wonders if it’s the first time a man has truthfully told her that he loves her. _Don’t let it be the last time_ , he begs. Sansa’s eyes are still half-closed, but she looks at him with such wonder and amazement that it could melt all the ice in the North.

“All of it. I’m so fucking in love with you.” She smiles and reaches up to run her fingers along the rough edges of his beard. Her breasts are pressed against his chest and he’s glad that there are several layers of clothing between them.

“I’m so fucking in love with you too.” Jon laughs - it’s the first time he’s heard her swear with such conviction. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer.

“How long have you known?” she asks.

“Ever since I saw you in the courtyard at Castle Black. I thought you were a goddess. You stood there in that blue cloak with your hair in a braid… it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen,” he says. “When did you start loving me?”

“I don’t know. You’re so easy to love. Maybe I always did,” says Sansa. She hesitantly brushes her lips against his. It burns his skin and freezes his blood at the same time. He’s too eager to feel it again. He joins their lips again, kissing her with every ounce of love he has. She moans quietly, and he has to pull himself away before he can completely consume her.

“You’re home, sweetling,” he says. _You’re my home._


End file.
